As Israel prepares for Memorial Day, the country is already deep in its rituals of remembrance. Memorial candles are positioned across every public space. People can be heard discussing which ceremony they plan to attend. Tribute videos circulate on social media and television. More than anything, the unmistakable atmosphere of Yom HaZikaron has begun to take hold.
But not every bereaved family is part of it. On the other side of the world – where it is still early morning and Memorial Day has yet to arrive – there are families carrying their grief in silence while life around them appears to continue as normal. Across the diaspora, from Europe through the US to Australia, there are families for whom Memorial Day carries no legal standing in the countries where they live, no cultural anchor. It is simply another day.
The distance is the hardest part
Alongside its support for bereaved families in Israel, the Defense Ministry's Families, Commemoration and Heritage Division works to accompany bereaved families from afar – building a support network and a sense of community for those living far from home.
"It doesn't matter where the bereaved family is – in Tiberias, Tel Aviv, or Australia. We aim to build a comprehensive care and support framework that encompasses all dimensions: emotional, financial, community, commemoration, and heritage. A supportive community, togetherness – these matter enormously," Efrat Shefa Dor, director of the division's overseas branch, said. "When the family is in the diaspora, there are cultural differences – language, distances. We have 42 families in the diaspora from the October 7 attacks, half of them lone soldiers who left everything and fell for this country, and we are morally committed to their families. For them, the distance from Israel – especially when most of the fallen are buried here – is the hardest part."
To address this, the ministry has, over the past decade, developed projects to support bereaved diaspora families year-round, alongside individual accompaniment beginning at the moment they receive the news. "We accompany the family from the moment they arrive in Israel with the military, through the shiva [the Jewish seven-day mourning period], and beyond. The Defense Ministry funds visits to Israel for commemoration, around the private memorial anniversary or Memorial Day, once a year. We, of course, maintain phone contact throughout the year and Zoom meetings," Efrat explained. This accompaniment is provided by professionals who work with families based on their specific needs, including staff who speak foreign languages to bridge language barriers.
To strengthen the sense of community and connection to Israel, the division has partnered with the Jewish Agency and the World Zionist Organization. As part of the "Cross-Border Connections" project, bereaved families share their loved ones' stories with diaspora communities. "This week, there was a Zoom session with high school students at a Jewish school in New York. Some of the reactions included a desire to make aliyah and serve here – that's remarkable," Efrat said, before describing another initiative.
"We were able to connect families despite the distance through an art therapy group on Zoom led by Dr. Ronen Berger from Israel, and we are now working on in-person groups. We held a digital exhibition of the artworks through the military attaché, and it was presented at the Memorial Day ceremony in Japan. It gives them the sense that they are being held by us – by the division, by the state," she said.
"Alone and disconnected"
"For two years I was part of the group, every Sunday for three hours, and it really helped process the pain when you live far away," Keren Shani, who lost her younger brother, Sgt. Maj. (res.) Adi Shani, 39, who fell fighting in Gaza in December 2023, said.
"I remember as though it were yesterday the day he was born. He used to tell me things he wouldn't tell our parents. We had a very special bond – and so did we all, with our siblings Eran and Tami. He was a wonderful child, very mischievous, and the army shaped him. He was a humble, quiet man who never sought the spotlight. Always focused on everyone else's needs. He was a child of light," she said, in tears. "The family was everything to him. He gave his wife Lior and his three daughters everything."
Keren, who lives in Sarasota, Florida, explains that coping with bereavement far from Israel creates a feeling of living a kind of double life, particularly against the backdrop of the hostility toward Israel since October 7.
"Israelis living abroad understand even more acutely how hard this is. It's a different culture; they don't have that connection in their soul to the Jewish people, to our land. When things like October 7 happen, life goes on here, and you feel alone and disconnected, and all you want is to be with your family."
On marking Memorial Day far from home, she underlines the dissonance. "On a day like this here, I have to get up in the morning, wipe away the tears, put on my makeup, and go to work. They don't understand. Maybe someone who has a connection to Israel or wants to be polite will say, 'I'm sorry for your loss,' but mostly, there isn't that awareness. You're expected to get up and go to work.
"There's Memorial Day in the US – but it doesn't touch nearly as many people, unlike in Israel, where everyone serves in the military," she said, adding that those who have served, or had family members who served, do understand her feelings. "My neighbors who served, or who had family members who served – the fact that they expressed their grief over losing Adi suddenly shifted my connection to them. They understand something that others don't about that sacrifice."
Despite this, she stresses the importance of the connection to Israel. "There isn't the support here that exists in Israel, which is why I'm deeply grateful to the Defense Ministry and the entire team, who were there and always made sure to call and hold us – especially at the beginning, when you feel like a broken fledgling, and they simply held us in the palms of their hands. They were constantly thinking of ways to do right by us."
"Expiration date"
Despite the painful rise in the number of bereaved diaspora families following October 7 and the Iron Swords War, the division accompanies families who lost loved ones in all of Israel's wars over the years – among them the family of Nechama Sprinzak, 77, the daughter of Lieutenant Aharon David Sprinzak, a pilot who fell in the 1948 War of Independence.
"I never knew my father – he fell before I was born," Nechama said. "But we were always in Israel for visits; it was never a vacation – it meant seeing all the family. It was always a major part of my life. My father has no grave; he fell at sea and was never found. There is a memorial in Tel Aviv in his memory. But as I grew up, I always felt connected to the Sprinzak family," she said, speaking of her ties to her family in Israel despite living in New York.
Nechama's move to the US with her mother, who later remarried, led to the mistaken belief that they were not entitled to state assistance and support. The story takes a remarkable turn when Nechama's mother comes to realize, entirely by chance, that there is an agency that can help her – at the age of 100, no less.
"It never crossed my mother's mind. We were in contact with the Jewish consulate for bereaved families, and we went to a few events, and they happened to offer us accompaniment from the Defense Ministry. They responded immediately. My mother was moved to tears. She said, 'This is an example to the world of how Israelis care for the families of their soldiers.' The attention, the compassion – she spoke about it until she passed away. About how kind the Israelis are. She couldn't get over the Israelis and their efficiency. 'That's something you don't forget,' she said."
The astonishment on Nechama's mother's part stemmed above all from the time that had elapsed since her husband's death. "My mother said, 'I thought there was an expiration date – they have younger people to take care of now.' She didn't think we deserved it. Everyone was so professional; there wasn't a problem they couldn't help us with. The ministry assisted my mother financially, and the people we spoke with ensured that every document was in order and properly handled. Even though I speak Hebrew, it is still very difficult; it's a nightmare for people who don't have help with it. I feel proud I can honor everything they did for us."
